From the couch to the counters of my kitchen
by minttulovesyou
Summary: Kurt really does get the term dog days, now.


**a/n**. hi, yes, i'm working on dirty paws and i'm hoping that i will have the next chapter ready by monday. i have about 1500 words to write and it's not really going so smoothly as i imagined so heres a little klaine fluff for you guys! theres absolutely no plot so no pain, yay!

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The lazy days of summer and warm hours wrapped up in blankets and each other, white never ending nights and sweat slicked press of unclothes chests against each other, and Kurt wouldn't have it any other way, really.

Blaine is so beautiful like this, under him, on top of him, sitting cross-legged on the floor when the temperature rises a little too much, a popsicle in his mouth and dark lashes closed almost all the way over his warm eyes. It does funny things to Kurt, really, makes all the little butterflies go crazy in the bottom of his stomach as he curls up around Blaine in his a bit too small bed, and smelling nothing but the sweet scent of summer and roses and _Blaine_. And Kurt moans into his mouth, unashamed and prideful, hands cupping his jaw and a set of fingers thread in his hair, smoothing over the curls and raising goosebumps all the way down Blaine's slightly tanned arms.

They've got the house to themselves some days, completely alone and spread out across the living room floor, the couch, the bed and then again the living room floor. It's just a bit on this side of too hot, they share smiles like they share popsicles and a glass after glass of orange juice, and not a bit of it feels wrong.

It's all right and good and _yes_, and they discover and later rediscover things all over each other and Blaine says he wants to paint the pale white blank canvas all over Kurt's body with all the colors of the rainbow, doesn't do it but might as well, spends minutes with his mouth on Kurt's wrists and smiling against the skin there, Kurt shudders and later they find each other in the kitchen, Kurt sitting on the kitchen counter and Blaine standing between his legs and kissing wetly across the vulnerable skin of his throat.

Kurt really does get the term dog days, now – most of the time he's barely awake enough to lift his hand, and Blaine cuddles in closer, his chin on Kurt's shoulder and he's making tiny noises in his sleep, his legs kicking occasionally and Kurt just melts into a boneless, pliant mess of a boy with the sweet puffs of breath across his collarbone. His dad walks into them a few times, but after a day it stops being awkward and Kurt doesn't even bother to open his eyes to tell his father to go away anymore. He feels ridiculously lazy and content and Blaine kisses his closed eyelids as he untangles himself from Kurt, laughs low and amused from deep in his throat as Kurt whines with his arms stretched out in front of him, pawing at the front of Blaine's shirt. But honestly, Blaine is just the worst boyfriend ever and he just tells him to _hurry up, we're going swimming_, leans in close and kisses him deep and dirty, bites into his lip and sucks at his tongue lightly, and in a second he's out of the room, leaving Kurt gasping for breath.

The walk to the pool is not that long, really, but it takes forever because they keep giggling, Kurt throws his hands up and squeals happily as they run down the narrow path towards the pool and Blaine catches him, carries him a few steps until they both fall, and Kurt giggles helplessly, his hand running slowly up and down Blaine's back, his own back pressed against the slightly damp grass on the side of the path, his lower half on the path and the little rocks and sand tickle his feet as he hides his face in the crook of Blaine's neck. And Blaine kisses him, soft and slow, tastes like summer and lazy days and strawberries, smiles against his lips and god, Kurt wants to stay there forever. He feels like falling asleep, really, the sky is clear blue and it's warm, the warm wind tousling his hair lazily as they lie there and for once he really doesn't care. But Blaine kisses the corner of his mouth, once and all too quickly before getting up. "C'mon", he says, holds his hand out for Kurt and spins him around as he gets up, and he shrieks as he almost falls again. Blaine catches him, though, like he always does, guides him the rest of the way with a strong warm hand splayed across the small of his back as they walk.

The pool is not actually a real pool, it's more like an abandoned reservoir in the middle of a forest but it's so close to Kurt's house and the waters clean anyway so there's no point in walking all the way to the school pools, where there's going to be more people and probably even some jocks and while Kurt has gained a lot of self-confidence he still doesn't like walking around half naked where people can actually see him. And really, it's not like they would be safe there anyway.

So Kurt watches Blaine as he dives straight into the water, the droplets of water shining on his skin and hair as he breaks the surface, breathes in deep and smiles so bright Kurt swear it's_ this close_ to blinding him. It takes him a little while longer to fold his clothes neatly, careful not to have any sand on them as he walks slowly into the water. It's surprisingly warm and Blaine tugs at his hand, still swimming in the shallow water as he smiles so wide Kurt has to smile too. Even though Kurt really doesn't like swimming too much, he can't argue with Blaine as he presses dry kisses along his shoulder, sighing softly into the wet skin with a quiet "this is nice".

They don't really swim, they just float – even if Blaine randomly dips his head in the water at times to keep his head a bit cooler they just mostly float in silence, hand in hand and eyes fixed on the sky. It's not often that they just _are_, only purely enjoying each others presence, and really, Kurt is going to take everything he can out of this moment, savor it, lock it into a box and breathe it in every time he feels lonely or sad or cold. Because the world is perfectly fine right there, in the shallow end of the lake with Blaine's eyes closed and eyelashes fluttering. And here are the butterflies again, insistent and growing stronger, and Kurt really can't help himself, swims closer and kisses Blaine, slow and deep. He can feel his eyelashes fluttering a bit until they settle, and there's a hand on the back of his neck, the warm wind tousles his wet hair and Blaine smiles, just a little, that cute small bashful smile of his still on his lips as Kurt pulls away to comb his fingers through his hair. It's wet, yes, admittedly, and Kurt sighs quietly because he will need to wash it as soon as they get back home, and he really doesn't feel like doing anything useful today.

Eventually they do get out of the water, when their skin is wrinkled, when there's wrinkles in the corners of Blaine's eyes as he smiles, and they crawl to the beach and slide into their shorts, not bothering with shirts with their skin still wet. Kurt kisses the spot in Blaine's neck, or shoulder, or maybe it's more chest where his collar bones dip into a small dimple, noses at his neck where his neck meets his jaw, just under it and breathing in the smell of salt and _Blaine,_ and Blaine smiles against his hair and wraps his arms around him.

He feels a bit boneless by the time they reach his house, Blaine's arm wrapped around his shoulders so warm and heavy, and he snuggles in closer as Blaine has to stop to open the front door. His dad and Carole are still where ever they ever are, Kurt forgot where they were going about two minutes after they told them, and Finn is at Puck's, and they have the house for themselves for a few hours more, at the very least.

They stumble up the stairs and into the bathroom, and Blaine draws him into his arms as soon as he's gotten rid of his shorts, he sighs contentedly as he kisses his cheek a little too long, a little too wet, a little too loving and Kurt turns around in his arms and kisses him on the mouth. And he tastes like orange juice, still, and he just_ can't get enough of it_, Blaine is making little breathy sounds into his mouth as he moves them under the spray of warm water. He's got his hands in Blaine's hair, massaging his scalp as he kisses him, deep and thorough and Blaine's got his back pressed against the wall, one leg lifted and bent at the knee, foot against the wall. But Kurt draws away, slowly, breathes into Blaine's still open mouth and watches as his eyes flutter open softly, how they travel from the hollow of his hipbones to his pale throat, stopping at his eyes, and when he smiles it's slow and loving, almost careful – like he's afraid that he's going to break the magic.

In the end they take turns washing each others hair, and Blaine sighs so deep Kurt smiles a little as he runs his fingers through the mess of curls, his eyes raking over the tip of his neck and the vulnerable position of his throat, head tilted back and eyes closed. He sags against Kurt, body pliant and boneless as Kurt works his fingers through his hair, washing the last of the shampoo out of Blaine's hair and making sure it all makes it's way down the drain.

They don't really care to dress themselves too carefully, settling in simple t-shirts and shorts, lying on the carpeted floor of the living room in the light of the slowly setting sun, eating popsicles, and the orange glow makes Blaine's eyes look so warm and Kurt can't take his eyes off of him; they keep the eye contact until Kurt rolls onto his stomach next to Blaine, kissing him softly. Blaine tastes like the popsicle he's eating, unsurprisingly, and it wakes up a hungry heat in Kurt's stomach – Blaine's lips smeared in melted ice and artificial flavoring, against his own, and god does he taste good, look good and just generally feel good, and before they know it Blaine's straddling Kurt, kissing him slow and deep with his fingers clutching at his shirt, his grip so tight his knuckles are white.

Kurt doesn't even think twice before kissing him back, lazily and unhurriedly because they have all the time in the world and they deserve a little bit of lazy time, after all. The popsicles are long forgotten, melting on the plate they have just for this, because yes, they learn from mistakes and one time cleaning melted strawberry ice pops from the floor is definitely enough. Kurt's hands twist and tangle in Blaine's hair, and oh, how it smells like_ Kurt_, Kurt's shampoo and Kurt's bed and Kurt's house, he smells so incredibly _his_ it's overwhelming and Kurt whines into Blaine's mouth as his hands make their way under his shirt and over his ribs, and Kurt lets him, of course he does. Because it's Blaine and why wouldn't he let him?

Blaine has to break the kiss, eventually, he's breathing heavily and his voice is husky when he speaks, and Kurt curls up into his arms, Blaine's arms wrapping up around his waist protectively as he presses his chest against Kurt's back.

The setting sun creates shadows on Blaine's skin, moving highlights and Kurt kisses all of them.

Later, they will have to move from the floor and into Kurt's room, change into their pajamas and slip under the covers, but for now they have the setting sun and the utter feeling of being in love and being loved.


End file.
